


ARKHAM ARENA: LOCKDOWN TO BEATDOWN

by webhead3019



Category: Batman: Arkham (Video Games)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-25
Updated: 2019-12-25
Packaged: 2021-02-28 22:28:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,347
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23264722
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/webhead3019/pseuds/webhead3019
Summary: Shortly after the events of Arkham Asylum, Joker stages a very different takeover than his last. As opposed to taking the entirety of the institution, he’s instead taken only a cell block. The only difference is Batman is trapped inside said cell block and will have to fight all of his major villains along with scores of other inmates in brutal close-quartered combat.
Kudos: 1





	ARKHAM ARENA: LOCKDOWN TO BEATDOWN

Batman walked down one of the most dangerous cell blocks in Arkham Asylum. He was alone of course. It was better that way. Even though he was a vigilante, he had garnered some respect from the law enforcement, notably Gotham PD Commissioner James Gordon and the warden. The latter was perhaps not so much a friend as an acquaintance who hoped nothing more than to treat the caped crusader once he had his fill of visiting the asylum and decided to come finally for the stay. Batman was allowed to visit the asylum on his own terms and without so much as an appointment, because even with all the security in the world, none was quite as vigil and talented as the Batman. For that reason, Batman was even allowed to take gadgets inside when everyone else with a screw or two loose had to get their pockets cleared.

You could say this most dangerous cell block for the clinically insane was looking more dangerous than ever, as the cell block looked packed to the max and colorfully so. For every 10 to 15 inmates claustrophobically being wedged together into a single cell, they were also accompanied by one of the supervillains from Batman’s rogue gallery. Pretty much the only cell that didn’t have any other inmates in it was the one that house the monstrously mutated and 10-foot fall Waylon Jones, also known as Killer Croc. Croc’s cell was relative cleared out for two reasons. Croc could barely fit himself into such a tight cell and he was known to cannibalize whoever he felt like whenever he got hungry. Granted, many of Arkham’s more trigger happy serial killers and maniacs like Mr. Victor Zsasz and the leaving-split-personality-to-chance deciding Two-Face, were also wedged in with the rest of the lot.

The latter already had himself a flipping coin in hand and his eyes were not currently set on Batman. Two-Face had been a former respected district attorney named, but the day a certain mobster and Roman Falcone’s righthand man Salvador Maroni tossed a vial of acid at him during a courtroom trial, one side of his face was left horrifically scarred and naturally did the same to his persona for all time to come. Batman thought to himself, “Either this cell block is looking a little too full or the warden has to answer for himself about the current treatment he’s administering. I can see my entire rogue’s gallery here and then some.” It was just like when Joker had all the Blackgate inmates transferred to Arkham but worse. It was way worse and truthfully unlike anything Batman has seen before and here he had thought he had seen it all. Batman knew at once he had to reach out to someone about it.

From founding father Amadeus Arkham to his great nephew Jeremiah Arkham, the wardens of Arkham Asylum weren’t known to be the easiest first responders of the Batman. While the bloodline had clearly not been passed down to the unrelated-by-name current warden Quincy Ulysses Sharp, the tactics of manipulation most certainly were. That much was proven when he took credit for Batman’s recent savior of his precious asylum. Batman didn’t have a problem with that so much as he had a problem with Sharp now in talks to go from manipulation warden to manipulative mayor. On the other hand, Gordon had was also there, having accompanied Batman to the asylum. He did so should anything go wrong as it often did with all the escapees and masterminds sometimes turned territory warlords. Having worked alongside him for so long, Gordon was almost like having another sidekick.

Albeit James Gordon was a very different sidekick than his Robins and at times Nightwing, who also used to be a Robin of his before he left his seemingly hell-bound side over justification differences. After all, Batman was nowhere near the easiest man or belfry bat to see eye-to-eye on. At the very least, Gordon was like a secondary to Alfred or Oracle, who used to be a female Robin or Batgirl before his arch-nemesis Joker turned her into a wheelchair-bound informant and Birds of Prey overseer with a crippling shot to her abdomen and spine. Oracle or Barbara Gordon was James Gordon’s daughter, which made the commissioner all the more important to him. If James ever found out that Batgirl was Barbara, he didn’t know if he would still be at his side. While billionaire crusader Bruce Wayne may be the greatest detective in the world, he was not without fault.

He certainly had limits when it boiled down to his more sociable comprehension, even if his birds did have special places in his battered however beating heart. Still he shouldn’t stall, as now wasn’t the time to get worked up over said matters. Perhaps, now there was no time at all. Of course, Batman came to the most satisfying conclusion in his brain that Gordon would be the easiest to talk to. He reached out to him like so when Batman patched into the asylum intercom via one sophisticated gauntlet courtesy of Wayne tech both he and Lucius Fox had developed. As historically seasoned and war-ready as ever, Batman groveled, “Gordon, something’s not right here.” As soon as he had said that, the doors leading into the cell block snapped shut and locked themselves via a remote.

Someone hidden away in the building had staged a very different takeover than the last. As opposed to taking the entirety of the institution, he’s instead taken only a cell block. Batman scowled angrily before further specifying, “You’re not Gordon.” Harley Quinn shouted from what had to be one of the air ducts within the ceiling, “Right-o, Bats! Now let’s see those ears perk so they listen good, cause this joke’s a killer.” The loud-mouthed and motormouthed former Arkham-bound psychiatrist turned Arkham-bound clown obsessive needn’t say anymore. If the clown princess of crime was here, the clown price wouldn’t be far behind. In Commissioner Gordon’s stead, Batman’s favorite bastard replied across the other end in his best Gordon impression, “Sorry, Gordon’s not here right now. If you want to reach him though, leave a message at the beep. Beep!”

Still not a vigil to stall one single bit, Batman snapped, “Joker! What did you do with the commissioner?” Joker giggled and went on a curiosity tangent, “What? I don’t get a hello? A kiss maybe? Not even a kick in the balls through the intercom.” Batman growled with impatience and reiterated, “What did you do?” After a most hearty sigh, Joker responded cheerfully and yet cruelly, “Oh, I just let the good ole commish take the day off. He could use a break. Not everyone can be a night owl like you. Or a night bat, that is. Oh, what the hell. You’re all nocturnal shits. Anywho, my girl Harley just bopped him in the head with a hammer is all. I’m sure he’s waken up from bars with more serious concussions. If all the beatings Gotham doesn’t kill you, it’s all the hammers you get!” He paused as if expecting one of the 300 inmates surrounding Batman to laugh. He wasn’t about to be denied a response to his punchline so he howled at his own self, “Bahahahahahahahahahaha!”

Batman gritted his teeth and through said gritted teeth, he remarked upsettingly, “If you killed James Gordon, I swear to—” Joker was at his quickest to cut him off and interjected, “You’ll swear to what? Will you swear aye compliance to the devil on your shoulder telling you to kill me? If I believed you had the guts, you’d have done it ages ago. That’s what I love about you, Bats. As much as you hate me, I’m the one who gets you going when the night is at its darkest. Just admit it. I’m your best friend. Not the boy blunder. Not your cave-dwelling butler or you’re beloved commissioner, but me. I’m the one who makes you hard, baby!” As rudely as can be reasonable, Batman spat, “In your dreams, you sad sack.” Most likely his chest, Joker struck something on the other end before singing tragically, “Ah, heartbreak! That’s alright. There’s always other fish in the sea. I still have my concubine Harley to cheer me up after you’re dead.”

Batman turned the tables on him and lectured, “For the same reason that I apparently won’t kill you, you won’t kill me Joker. All you did was stockpile me your own fragile insecurities.” Joker laughed, “Me, insecure? I’m the one who’s about to open all the locks in this iron and shit-stenched cell block, you blabbering fool. Do you even know how hard it was to fit 300 men in this section of the sanitarium, let alone 20? It’s nighty night, you blabbering caped buffoon. World’s greatest detective? You’re the world’s most lobotomized moron, especially after we’re through stomping your brains into the cold prison floor.” Batman demanded in an utterly reverberant pitch, “If it’s a showcase of wits and brawn you want, then how about you cut to the damn chase already. I’m sure you’re soaking yourself in fear, just watching me from that monitor.”

Feeling the burning need to correct him, Joker shot back, “It’s more like excitement and maybe satisfaction after you get what you fucking deserve, bat-brain. You’re the bed-wetter. Anyone who dresses like a bat is sure to have daddy and mommy issues. Don’t pretend I don’t know who you really are... Brucie.” Batman came very close to pausing this time, but in his heart he knew he couldn’t. As spontaneously as one could, Batman improvised, “Of course, you might know that. I never doubted your ingenuity, but also these tests are your own downfall. They have time then and time again. That’s how I know you’ll lose, Joker. You’ll lose as you have lost before and no one will believe you, even if you weren’t deleting this audio bit of the conversation as we speak.” One of the inmates was clearly taken aback and expressed this sense of aback when he shouted, “What? What the Hell is Batman talking about that. Joker said he had contingencies.”

For the first time since getting on the intercom, Joker turned his attention to someone other than the dark knight and under different circumstances, usually silent protector of Gotham. With a newfound vitriol in his saliva, Joker fired away, “Shut up you, goon! I could kill anyone in this room if I wanted to including you. Call that a contingency. Every day is a good day for a bout of murder, but today’s not just about murdering anyone. Today’s about murdering the bat, once and for all.” Joker didn’t waste time to see that his cronies found this to be agreeable when he turned his attention back to the Bat. Joker confirmed, “Don’t worry, your secret is in fact safe with us. They can’t confirm it and neither will your autopsy after we turn destroy your finger tips, dentures, along with any other trace of DNA. The end of the line is here, Batman. You’re going to die in the very place you once thought it would end when you roped up all your other lovebirds.”

Joker added insult to his character by announcing, “You’re a cheat and a rich boy cheat at that with delusions of grandeur. Can’t you see that you’re no more delusional than the delinquents you condemn as such. Those delusions have spoiled your mind and they might be the death of you. Can’t honestly say it wasn’t so unforeseeable, now can you?” Batman have him something when he said, “Maybe, but I don’t think your vision will then be around to witness such a demise. Your eyes will be too swelled over when I make it to the final wave, which is placing your ACE chemical-bleached ass back in the slammer where you belong.” Joker chimed up some more and stated, “For a man of few words, you certainly are being a motor-mouth now. Is that nervousness I sense when faced with your deadliest challenge yet? How do you really feel? Do tell me, old friend. How does it feel to be locked in a cage yourself now, Bats?”

Always with a card up his sleeve himself, Batman quipped menacingly, “I’m not locked in here with you. You’re locked in here with me. All of you are.” The fear gas-using Scarecrow was the first of the curiously dressed up villains to break his silence when he declared, “You don’t scare us, Batman! Especially me.” They were all dressed for the occasion which told Batman, they had been plotting yet another deviant occasion for quite some time under the Warden Quincy Sharp’s careless nose once again. The fact that this man was so close to running for mayor made it all the worse. Batman told Jonathan Crane or Scarecrow off cryptically, “Well, we’ll just have to work on that, Mr. Crane.” Batman didn’t feel it necessary to address the Joker by name when he said, “As for you, you should know such a defeat better than anyone. You may think you have all the hand you need, but that’s just a delusion of your own self-hazardous making.”

Joker spat, “Oh, I may have the buzzer but you’re the buzzkill! Why do you always have to ruin my fun, eh Batsy?” Batman answered simply, “Because like the hardened back of my own hand, I know you. No matter what you try, no matter what you pull, I’m always one step ahead of you.” Joker noted as cleverly as instinct evilly, “Well, Batman! All the dead bodies I laid in the dirt just to get up to this moment will just have to agree to disagree with you. Let’s just enjoy the fight, shall we?” Batman took to a fighting stance as the cells began to open one at a time. As Batman settled into position, he save for a moment approved, “That’s one thing we can both agree on... Bring it!” Joker chuckled upon being granted that slight victory and said rather loudly, “Glad we could agree on something, asshole.” As the thugs began their approach, Joker shouted, “He’s the Batman— quick he gets to the punch, so quick he gets to be dead. Get to a runnin in this hallway, the odds will be in your favor. Have at em, boys!”

10 Minutes Ago...

Commissioner Gordon stared at a bunch of loose rap sheets and warranted files spread out around the counter. Gordon rubbed his temples with highly stressed fatigue and muttered to himself, “The only one who’s missing from this joint is the Joker. It’s eerily quiet without him where he belongs. I wonder where in Gotham’s shitting ground Hell has that giggling demon ran off to now.” He left his pipe that Barbara had given to him on his birthday at home, but he had bought a little something for himself on the way up here seeing that it was going to be a long night. It always was, especially when the Batman was needed which he too always was. James Gordon pulled out a cigar and started puffing on it. He knew not to inhale, but he didn’t really care. With pipes, he wasn’t stopping his toxin inhalation, so he wasn’t about to now.

These harrowing days and waking nightmare-filled nights were getting to be too much for one man to handle. Pretty much the only thing holding Commissioner Gordon together was his desire to keep his daughter safe by being the last line of defense for Gotham PD in what seemed like an endless crusade. He didn’t know how one man could do it, let alone a caped crusader who was clearly more psychologically damaged than he was. Maybe that’s why they got along so well. Everyone in Gotham had their demons, but Gordon dealt with it considerably more positively than Batman was. Gordon tried not to grovel and feel bad for himself. Every once in a great while, he just forgot how to relax. He needed a drink or a smoke to quell his nerves, sometimes both.

As Gordon thought he was alone in that room, a man who must have entered the room silently broke his silence. In a rather familiar voice, he questioned curiously, “I thought you were more of a pipe man, but is that a stogie I see? Don’t you know you’re not supposed to smoke around the crazies, let alone inside with em in this day and age. You might be the cause of a fire... inside your own lungs.” To his surprise, Joker swept his coffee mug from the countertop before Gordon could react. Commissioner Gordon at impulse went for the gun in his coat pocket and yelled furiously, “JOKER!” Before he could draw, Joker wagged his index finger at him with the same hand that was now gripping the man’s coffee mug. Joker further enlightened him through warning, “Nah-ah-uh. Commish, I’ve got a gun up my sleeve. You wouldn’t want me to handicap you like I did your precious daughter.”

Joker paused as though to regather his thoughts and wondered aloud, “What was the bitch’s name? Ah, Barbara. I believe that’s the name.” Commissioner Gordon fumed drunkenly, “You keep her names out of your mouth, you son of a bitch.” Joker repeated, “She was a bitch, you say. Well, you wouldn’t be wrong. They always are. Telling me I couldn’t make it as a comedian. Telling me I needed to be more realistic. Now look at me, bitch! Oh, right. You’re dead, God rest that poor woman’s soul. Now who’s more realistic? Even got me a cold bitch for a princess. Ain’t that right, Harley boo.” Harley Quinn marched out from a corner obscured by filing cabinets and appeared alongside him, with a giant hammer in both her hands. Gordon was even more surprised now that somehow she had managed to shut her yap for that long.

She leaned forward on her tiptoes and planted on his cheek a nice long smooch. Her lipstick rubbed off on him and didn’t waste a second to nudge it squeakily clean with Joker’s handkerchief before sticking it back in his chest pocket. Harleen Quinzel said, “That’s right, Mistah J. I even got me a bastard for a prince.” Joker scowled and forebode, “Easy now, Harley.” Gordon said, “How can you be going along with this, Harley? You used to know all the staff here!” Harley chimed, “Oh cheer up, sad eyes! That was ages ago. People come and go, but not Mistah J. He’s my life now and that’s more than enough for me.” Joker poked her nose and said, “That’s right, Harley Quinn. Don’t you forget it! Now give us some space will you? I have unfinished business to attend to.” Gordon tried keeping his eye on Harley as she walked to the other side of the room.

Although when she departed from his line of sight with the Joker, he turned his attention back to him. Harley’s hammer was large, but he would be able to hear her coming if he wasn’t distracted. Joker was the real threat in the room, since he managed to sneak a gun this far along into the asylum. Gordon could only imagine the trail of slain security bodies Joker and Harley Quinn had left in their wake in order to get into the control box. As James Gordon had him, Joker respectfully turned his attention back to the man. In a successful effort to anger him even further, Joker proceeded to say, “Bitches, bitches. They’re all the same. Sometimes they even have the same name for crying out loud. You named your daughter after your dead wife. She died before she could know her own daughter so sadly, I was not what killed her.”

Commissioner Gordon roared at the top of his lungs, “Monster! How dare you?” Joker smugly grinned and savagely tore into him when he teased, “What’s the matter, ole boy? Did I take you on a memory trip you didn’t want to go on, Jimbo? Seeing that you’re all fired up with the intent to kill, no point in stopping now.” Joker recalled, “Remember the photos I took of Barb’s naked body? I wonder what she’ll think when I show her your naked defenseless body. Groundhog Day anyone? Maybe not quite, seeing that she’ll see someone else in the same boat as her now. Could you imagine what that might do to your damaged daughter’s eyes? She might just cry... from laughter. I know I would. Bahahahahahahaha!” Commissioner Gordon swore, “Bastard! Enough games already. What in the hell are you doing here, clown?”

Joker chuckled, “Skip the formalities why don’t you? You want me to give you something more when I haven’t even gotten a whiff of you outside that stogie that so isn’t you.” Joker realized that wasn’t all coffee in his hands after he took a hard whiff of the stolen mug still residing in the hand of the thief himself and his powdery white nostrils immediately lit up. Joker said, “Gordon! All this time, I thought you have been a white knight cop. Naughty, naughty! Not only are you smoking on the job but you’re drinking. I wonder if Batman wheels me to the asylum and you to rehab. Someone must really need to wake the hell up and face reality.” Joker hurled the contents of the whiskey-laced caffeine cocktail which was still steaming hot, burning Gordon with it who in turn screamed in scathing pain.

Joker smashed the mug to pieces against the counter as Gordon booted himself away with one nimble foot and stumbled backwards out of his chair. Joker allowed his sleeve to drop, showing nothing but the bare skin on his skin and revealed, “Sometimes the pen truly is mightier than the sword. You didn’t really think I would shoot you when there are so many better ways to kill you? I mean use it when I have to, but bullets can’t properly bring Gothamites out of their shell... out of their facade. I want to make people laugh. I want to make them cry and scream at the same time. When I cut into the layers of their makeup, I want to get to know them. Do you understand where I‘m coming from?” Gordon shot back, “No! Not a freaking clue.”

Commissioner Gordon whipped his gun out at him. Joker asked, “Are you gonna shoot me, Gordon. Are you gonna shoot a defenseless man. You’re pointing it at my head. Are you gonna finally pull the trigger and have the last laugh?” James Gordon said, “Gotham needs people like me, someone to keep them in line. You’re seriously going to patronize me after everything you’ve done. Don’t make me laugh! Sometimes the only way to save the city is to do it without the book. Whether I have all the reason to shoot you or not doesn’t matter. The last person Gotham needs is scum like you. This isn’t for me, this isn’t for Barbara. This is for everyone you have ever hurt or killed. This is me doing what has to be done because no one else will. This is my favor for the people of Gotham.”

Joker said, “Oh, boo-hoo. Some white knight you are. There are no white knights in Gotham. After tonight there won’t be any knights, dark or white. There will only be blackness.” The disoriented Commissioner Gordon shakily stood back onto his feet, miraculously without losing the pistol aim he had on Joker. Joker burst into a fit of laughter and once he had finally got under control, he asked, “You’re seriously going to do it now?” James Gordon said, “Off you go to Hell, you clown-faced cunt—” Before he could pull the trigger, Harley struck Gordon in the back of the head, forming a bloody welt and collapsing all of his weight back against the ground. Joker said, “You actually did it, Harley! I mean it took you fucking long enough. Honestly, I would have expected Batman to shoot me before Gordon.”

Joker looked more closely at her and assaulted her character indirectly, “I guess sometimes we don’t know people as well as we think. I thought you were going to let him pull the trigger.” Harley asked, “No way, handsome! Where would I be without you?” Joker said, “Oh, gee. I don’t know. Probably still collecting a hefty salary as a psychiatrist in this godforsaken dump. You do love shitholes.” Harley said, “Indeed I do!” Joker took a second to realize what she meant and exclaimed angrily, “HEY!” Only this time more acceptingly, Joker exclaimed again, “That was actually a good joke.” Harley said, “You know what would be an even greater joke? If we cracked this humorless fucker’s head open and all his missing punchlines spilled out.” Joker said, “Not now, Harley.” Harley asked, “But don’t you want to kill him? He tried to kill you.”

Joker frightened Harley when he snapped, “I said not now, Harley! Like you said, he tried to kill me. I think I have a change of plans for Gordon, now that I feel like I’m just starting to know the old fart.” Harley asked, “What would you like me to do then? Joker said, “Enter the cell block, but use the ventilation system. In case they get out of line, I want you to put the other patients back in their places. I don’t need them killing the Batman right away. I just need him beaten enough for me to say hello.” Harley said, “Will do, Mistah J! You can count on me!” Harley unfastened some screws with hasty precision and popped off the grate cover to the nearest adjacent air duct. As she began to push her upper torso limberly inside. Joker acknowledged the outline of her buttocks in tight-pants. Joker spanked Harley on the rear end and said, “After all, I want a piece of his ass too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This might end up taking an alternate route over Arkham City where Batman breaks his own cardinal rule, because what this set up narratively is the fact he’ll be forced in a corner by hundreds of killers to the point where he won’t be able to pull all of his punches... thus using lethal force on quite a good few.


End file.
